A King's Blessing
by Vivaciti
Summary: Nothing is easy when dealing with Clopin. Why should asking for Esmeralda's hand be any different?


**A/N:** This was an unfinished one-shot idea that had been sitting in the recesses of my laptop for quite some time. It proved to be pretty good dialogue practice!

**Edit:** Wow, thank you, dear readers! I'll definitely consider exploring some other HoND plot bunnies I've got rolling around in the ol' noggin! :)

**Disclaimer:** HoND is owned by Victor Hugo and that giant, corporate mouse.

**-=o0o=-**

_A King's Blessing_

**-=o0o=-**

"I want your blessing to take Esmeralda as my wife."

The Gypsy King barely twitched at his presence. The amalgamated flickering of all the candles on his work table lighted his face with a most intriguing glow as he whittled a head for, presumably, a new puppet. Phoebus remained standing, rather awkwardly, in the entrance of the tent while he waited for some kind of acknowledgment.

Finally after about a solid, uncomfortable minute, Clopin sighed and laid down the block of wood.

"Good sir, you do not just _take_ wives from us," he replied, languidly gesturing with his knife as he used his free hand to smooth back his dark hair. "Who is to say that your love will falter, and that you will go gallivanting off to new horizons once she bores you sufficiently? No, dear Captain, I do not accept words of honor."

There was then an odd choking noise that emitted from Phoebus' throat in lieu of coherent words. He coughed quickly to clear it; _this _was _not_ the answer he had been expecting.

"How have I not proven myself _honorable_ enough for you? Or was helping you lead the resistance against Claude Frollo not enough?" he asked, straining his voice to hide his flabbergasted state.

Two steps ahead, Clopin finally shifted his gaze to his guest, and Phoebus could immediately tell by the expression that he had expected him to bring that up. Why would he not; this was the white elephant had been stomping around the Court since Phoebus had first requested a private audience with the Gypsy King.

Suddenly, the Roma chuckled.

"You are not aware of our customs, are you Feeble?

"_Phoebus."_

"Of course. _Anyway_, if you do not know our customs, how are you to marry my dear Esmeralda."

He noted that this was not a question. Phoebus shifted in growing irritation.

"She will teach me. She has already made that very clear."

Clopin stood and cracked his back, stretching his arms over his head in effort to release the tension that had built up from being hunched over for quite some time. "Do you know what a _gadje_ is, dear Captain?" he asked, indifference lacing his words as he absentmindedly brushed the wood shavings off of the tabletop.

"…No."

"A _gadje_ is our term for one who is not of the Romani people – an outsider, if you will. Outsiders are not to be trusted as most fraternization with them leads to unfortunate circumstances for us."

Phoebus' reaction had not altered at this as he continued to stand like a statue, eyes intensely trained upon the King. Clopin smirked slightly as he uttered a soft 'tsk' noise, shaking his head. He approached the Captain placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Ah, Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe," he sighed, again shaking his head as a smirk tugged broadly at his face. Looking around dramatically as if to make sure there was no one in the room eavesdropping (which there clearly was not), Clopin brought his gloved hand to his mouth indicating that he was about to divulge a secret.

He motioned for Phoebus to lean in - which he did.

"You, Phoebus," he whispered, "are an outsider!"

Grinning brightly, the King patted Phoebus' cheek twice and promptly turned away as if that had rightly explained enough.

Phoebus' hands immediately turned into fists at his sides. "And _what_ do you want me to do about _that?_" he growled through clenched teeth, finding it increasingly difficult to deal with this man's insufferable antics.

Clopin was now holding his hat, fiddling with the yellow feather. "I don't know," came the flippant reply. "Be born a Roma?"

Feeling his pulse bang against his forehead now, the Captain had finally had enough. Advancing angrily further into the tent, he vociferated in clear frustration: "_Mon Dieu_, man! Explain to me how I have not proven my worth to you!"

"You led Frollo directly to our hideout!" Clopin exclaimed back, his voice holding more of an innocent, explanatory tone, albeit chiding, than an angry one.

"How were we to know he was following us?"

"Oh, I don't know, let us think about this for a moment. Maybe you could have checked behind you?" He turned fully to him. "Tell me, how does one miss half an army? Oh, and say! It could have been advantageous to not leave the entrance to one of our secret passageways wide open, _vous ne pensez pas?_ You never put the lid back on the crypt, you know! Mon Dieu, Monsieur, do you live in a barn?"

Phoebus reeled. "That's something coming from someone who lives in the sewage of the catacombs! Who are you to tell-" He stopped. "Look, don't change the subject. End result of all that was you got your revolution. Look at the outcome!"

"That I had to decapitate seven soldiers and maim _countless_ more to protect my people? How _sordid_ of you to remind me. I'm wounded emotionally over that whole ordeal, I'll have you know!" Theatrically, he added: "I may just cry right now."

"You were grinning like a madman the entire time!"

"Oh…yes. Well, I'll give that one to you."

Phoebus bit his tongue as he stared at the lithe man in muted bewilderment. Clopin merely smiled back, as if they had been speaking about the weather.

"You…don't want to give her away at all, do you? Nothing I say will persuade you otherwise, is that it?" Phoebus suddenly chuckled, not taking his eyes off the other man for a moment – he was trying to figure him out. "Forgive me, Clopin, but your reasoning eludes me."

"And it likewise eludes me as to why you would want to immerse yourself in the life of a gypsy. I do _not_ want Esme marrying a _gadje_, and that is final." There was an abrupt, deadly seriousness in Clopin's words now. Phoebus opened his mouth and quickly closed it, attempting to absorb the gravity of the statement.

He was growing desperate.

"You know I can offer a large dowry for her. I know there's something in your traditions about having a dowry. I can procure it for you in but a day. If you just let me-"

"Don't insult me with your money," Clopin interrupted with a wave of his hand.

Phoebus paused.

"Funny…you have no qualms about taking it from people on the street."

This obviously prodded a nerve as it was now Clopin's turn to clench his gloved hands into fists. "How _else_ do you expect us to make a mere _fragment_ of what you call a 'living,' _Mon Capitan?_"

"I don't know, how does an _honest_ day's work sound to you?"

Instantly, Clopin rounded on him. With a lunge, he had grasped the collar of Phoebus's tunic and slammed him to the ground, crouching on top of him. With his entire weight, though lithe he was, squatting down upon Phoebus' chest, the captain found breathing to be a bit difficult as he gasped for the air that had been knocked out of him. It all happened in one, astonishingly swift movement.

"Say anything like that again to me, and I'll slice you from nape to chops," Clopin hissed, his dark eyes challenging him to continue as he wrenched his collar. "Tell me what isn't _honest_ about merely trying to survive in a world of _dishonesty?_"

Phoebus glared up at the King of Truands' face, still trying to breathe. How shockingly quick this man was to change faces.

But Phoebus did not make a move to push him off. "Clopin. I _love_ her. What more do you want me to say?"

Clopin only sneered at this.

"I told you, words of honor mean nothing to me, especially from a _gadje__!_" he growled. "_You_ don't _deserve_ Esmeralda's love! To be passive to all of this injustice all your life until recently? HA! You are _worse_ than a gadje, Monsieur! _You are a bystander!_ You, sir, are a _liar_ and an _imposter! A __**villain**__!__"_

With that Phoebus landed a swift punch across the left side of Clopin's face. The force caused him to stagger sideways off of Phoebus, and the downed captain hastily righted himself. Clopin stumbled quickly up, cradling his assaulted face. There would be a bruise later to be sure.

No one spoke for a moment, and Phoebus was already half preparing for some sort of dagger to be thrown his way.

Surprisingly, Clopin was the first to speak. "I can have you killed for that," he muttered, rubbing his jaw now.

Phoebus half nodded. He did know this – which was why he refrained from using physical intervention earlier.

"And you'd make such an obtusely bold move against me within my Court _why_ exactly?"

Phoebus did not move. Keeping his gaze steady on Clopin, he spoke: "Because I cannot bear to think of myself as a bystander...not when I love Esmeralda as much as I do. Not when I see her and see more goodness and passion for justice within her than I have ever seen in anyone before. My eyes have been opened, and I need you to recognize this. That you could say I do not love her…that is why I hit you."

Clopin was listening intently, still rubbing his jaw as his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Hm, you see, Esmeralda would have probably hit me as well. Probably harder. …And not across the face, either."

"Yes, she-…Wait, what?"

Clopin approached Phoebus (who stiffened as he was now on the defensive) and stopped about three feet away. Clopin made no attempt to hide the fact that he was scrutinizing every detail of his face, making Phoebus feel as if he was a horse for sale at the marketplace. Phoebus opened his mouth to make a second protest, feeling intensely uncomfortable.

"Ah, Lord, I was waiting to see when I would get some kind of _response _out of you!" Clopin exclaimed and grabbed Phoebus' hand and shook it heartily, his demeanor having completely changed to someone who was as chipper as a sunbeam. "Well, I mean, we have some other issues and things to address and discuss, but that all should come in due time." He laughed then and smacked the baffled Phoebus on the back as he led him to the entrance flap of his tent.

Draping an arm around his shoulders, he smiled, patting his back. "Just know, Phoebus, that if I ever find out that you are responsible for making but a single tear fall from her eyes, I will use you to satisfy my curiosity as to how many daggers the human body can hold!" he exclaimed jovially as he embraced the immensely bewildered Captain of the Guard. With that, the King of the Gypsies pushed him out of his tent like a parent sending a nervous child off to school.

Phoebus stood outside the tent for a moment and stared out into the Court of Miracles, unsure as to what exactly had just happened.

He was confused, yet cautiously…elated? So, was it that Clopin had been playing him the _entire_ time? Was...that what just happened? Had the man planned this out long before he had requested a private audience with him? The fact that there was a group of Romani gathered a few feet from their king's tent seemed to indicate the validity in this theory. Two of the women of that group met his eyes, chuckled quietly, and turned away to take their leave.

Had they heard every word?

He didn't know whether he hated that man for his confounding antics, or loved him for granting his glorious (though rather ambiguous) blessing upon Esmeralda and him. Phoebus then grinned, the expression slowly gliding over his face until it had made its way almost from ear to ear. He wondered faintly what Esmeralda would think of the little mind game-charade her cousin had just performed. Then again, had it truly been a charade? All he knew was that his fist hurt. Clopin's face probably hurt more.

What an _endearing_ in-law he should prove to be.

**-=o0o=-**

**A/N:** Oh, Clopin. Hope you enjoyed!

*Just to clarify, in the book Clopin uses a scythe in the battle – something Disney failed to mention, heh. I suppose that's not very child friendly, is it? (Then again, they didn't kill him off either, so I guess I'll give them a pass. I gueeesss.)

_Reviews are very much appreciated!_


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